


Damned if I do (damned if I don't)

by Lady_in_Red



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:10:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9140374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_in_Red/pseuds/Lady_in_Red
Summary: Mike and Ginny volunteer to watch the Sanders twins on New Year's Eve 2016.Post season 1.





	

Mike Lawson watches the last minutes of 2016 tick away, not for a second regretting that he isn’t dressed up in the midst of a crowded party. On the television, the crowds in Times Square look cold and impatient, while Mike is sprawled warm and comfortable on Blip’s couch. 

Blip and Evelyn dressed to the nines and went out on the town hours ago. They aren’t expected home until morning. After the last few months, they needed a night to themselves, and for once Mike had no other plans. He hasn’t spoken to Rachel in months, and the women who used to call him for a roll in the hay don’t have his new number. 

A year ago, Mike would have mocked a night like this: takeout pizza, playing Mario Kart with the twins, indulging them (and trying to tire them out) with a long walk around the neighborhood playing Pokemon Go on their phones. The boys finally crashed after watching a New Year’s countdown on Netflix and fell into bed begging to be woken up for midnight. 

No way in hell will Mike wake up those boys, lest the wrath of Evelyn descend on him. Besides, then he’d have to move the softly snoring woman cuddled against his chest. He vaguely remembers turning on a movie after the boys went to sleep, but can’t remember anything past the point when Ginny slumped against his shoulder and Mike let his eyes drift shut.

He should let her sleep. Even better, he should get himself off this couch before his back starts spasming and the kids find Ginny on top of him in the morning. 

On the television, the ball starts to drop. The scene in New York is tape delayed, but outside fireworks start going off on boats anchored in Mission Bay and around Coronado Island. 

Ginny stirs in her sleep, her fingers flexing against his stomach, her leg hitching higher around his thigh, and Mike runs a hand lightly up and down her back. Her breath fans against his neck, her nose bumping his bearded jaw. “Did we fall asleep?” she mumbles, yawning. 

“I don't think we made it to 11.”

She giggles at that. “Old man Lawson, couldn’t stay awake ‘til midnight.” 

If getting old means ending 2016 holding a beautiful 24-year-old woman who doesn’t think of him as a trophy or a disappointment, Mike will accept aging gladly. “Oh really? What's your excuse?”

“Shh, they're counting down.” Mike expects her to pull away, but she doesn't, just turns her head so she can see the screen better.

The crowd follows the garish crystal ball’s descent with rapt attention, and he can’t blame them. Most people are happy to kiss the year good-bye. And Mike’s mind stumbles to a halt as the ball touches bottom, “Auld Lang Syne” begins, and the screen cuts to kissing couple after kissing couple. He knew this moment was coming, but it still catches him off guard.

Blip gave him a strange look when he and Evelyn were getting ready to go tonight, and before that when Mike volunteered to keep Ginny company tonight. Nothing to see here, just an aging fuck-up who knows way too much about his rookie and way too little about kids, manipulating his way into a kiss they can both deny meant anything tomorrow. Blip wasn't fooled, and Mike will have to deal with that later, but not tonight. Ginny likely confided in Evelyn at some point over the last few months, or Evelyn bullied her into talking, or Blip is just too observant. 

Ginny raises her head to look at him, so close he can feel her breath on his lips. “Happy new year, Mike,” she says softly. 

She doesn’t use his name often, and damned if the sound of it doesn’t go straight to his cock. Her warm, soft body against his doesn’t hurt either. Mike wants to bite the curve of her bare shoulder, lip and nip his way up her throat until he reaches her mouth, but what he wants isn’t important right now. 

He settles for cupping her cheek in one hand and leans up to press his lips to hers. Lightning doesn’t strike, and the only music swelling comes from the television, but kissing Ginny feels  _ right  _ in a way nothing in his life has lately. Mike’s lips drift to the corner of her mouth, to the dimple he loves, before he lets his head fall back to the cushions.

Ginny stares at him a moment, then presses her face into his shoulder. “Damn.” Her voice is muffled, but still cranky, almost pouting.

“Damn?”

She sighs heavily. “I was really hoping that would suck.”

Relief floods him, and he doesn't bother trying to hide his smile as he kisses her temple, breathes in the soft vanilla scent of her hair. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Ginny pops up and waves an accusing finger in his face, brushing over his beard. “That was supposed to be all scratchy and you were supposed to have terrible breath or slobber all over me.”

Mike wants to laugh, because she is damned adorable at the moment, but he settles for nipping her fingertip. 

Ginny snatches it back and narrows her eyes. “That's not cute.”

“Not trying to be cute, Baker.” Mike hasn’t been cute since he was a kid, when he could get away with murder as long as he turned his mischievous smile on whoever intended to punish him. His mother counted on Mike’s charm to get her out of more than one tight spot. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” she orders. 

“Like what?” He's wondering how her calloused hands would feel against his skin, and if she’s as mouthy in bed as she is on the field. 

“Like my screwball is the last thing on your mind.”

She's so annoyed this time he does chuckle, his hand sliding down her spine, grazing over her ass. Her sharp inhale is nearly as gratifying as the minute grind of her hips against his leg. Mike’s hand settles on her thigh. “I am definitely not thinking about your screwball.”

Ginny has broken her no-ballplayers rule before, Mike is certain of that. Her confrontation with Trevor Davis had nothing to do with payback for Tommy Miller. If this thing between them went south (and with Mike, everything does eventually), it could wreck their season. They knew it back in August, the magnetic pull between them suddenly reversing to push them apart. 

“Lawson—”

“I know.” Back to teammates, back to friends, but at least he doesn’t have to wonder anymore if he misread Ginny, if Rachel was right and he only liked the chase. With a hand wrapped around her nape, Mike draws Ginny down to him one more time, letting his lips linger over the pulse in her throat, savoring the clean scent of her skin, the shivers that run through her as his beard tickles her throat. “Still hate the beard?” he teases.

“Definitely,” Ginny answers, breathless enough to betray her lie. 

Mike puts them both out of their misery and returns to her mouth, not content to keep this one last kiss sweet. It has to be the last one, if it’s not they’re going to fuck on Blip’s couch, and being discovered naked by the Sanders twins is not on Mike’s bucket list. 

When Ginny sighs against his lips he deepens the kiss, draws her body as close as they can get. For a few desperate, dirty moments, Ginny is his entire world.

And then Ginny’s phone beeps, and they spring apart like a pair of teenagers caught making out. Ginny’s lips are swollen, her eyes dark, her breath coming in uneven gasps. Somehow she’s straddling him, and Ginny backs off so fast Mike barely has a chance to enjoy the feel of her in his lap. 

“I should get to bed,” she stammers, then shakes her head. “Alone, I mean.”

“I think I’ll stay out here a few minutes.” Otherwise he’ll just end up jacking off thinking about her. He might do that anyway. Hell, he’s almost certainly going to do that, because he hasn’t been this hard in a long time and it’s embarrassing how close he got from a few kisses.

From her face, Mike thinks she knows exactly what he’s going to do. Ginny gets up and picks up her phone. “Blip checking in. I’ll tell him the boys are fine.”

Blip butting in, more like it. Mike just nods, and tries not to think about the interrogation he’s going to have to put up with tomorrow. 

She answers his nod, and it aches a little, how easy it can be between them. “We’re good, right?” she asks, biting her lip nervously. 

“Yeah, Ginny, we’re good.” 

And this time he means it.


End file.
